The Six
by JustAnotherRandomInTheFandom
Summary: As their crime-fighting and teenage social life continue, the PPGs have finally gotten into the rhythm of things . . . when an unexpected beat turns the girls' lives upside-down. The return of the RRBs has never occurred to the PPGs in their dreams, and now they're back. But why? How? And what role do the PPGs play in the RRBs lives, and in saving them from their dark past?
1. Chapter 1

"I'm going to miss. I'm going to slip. I'm not going to get it in that net. I refuse to even try!" Bubbles whimpered as she landed with a _whump_ in the grass. Buttercup rolled her eyes and walked over to her big sister. Bubbles was squatting, her light blue eyes glaring up at her defiantly. Buttercup snorted and lifted her sister to her feet with one quick motion. Bubbles squealed as she was forced to stand.

"It's not my fault you're practically failing in physical education," Buttercup told her. "And my own sister too! How embarrassing!" She flashed her green eyes at her. "You said you wanted help passing the soccer course. Well here I am. Now shoot." After another glare at Bubbles, she took to the air.

She could hear Bubbles groaning. Buttercup smirked and looked down at her sister. _It isn't as if Bubbles can't do it,_ she thought to herself. _It's because she won't try._ Bubbles had all the necessary skills; good hand eye coordination, great stamina, and power. She just didn't seem very willing to shoot a spherical object into a mesh of string. Buttercup already knew they wouldn't get anywhere with soccer, but Bubbles was captain of the cheerleaders. Surely she could bribe some marks out of that.

Bubbles pulled her leg back, about to kick - Buttercup looked down eagerly, anticipating some sort of progress - when Bubbles slipped on her other foot and fell back down on the grass. Buttercup sighed and landed back on the ground. She picked up the soccer ball and spun it on her index finger.

"You'll do fine," Buttercup muttered.

"Really?" Bubbles asked. Her look was one of skepticism. "I didn't get a single goal."

Buttercup shrugged. "I'm sure you can pass. A high mark is kind of unlikely though. The coach knows your extracurriculars. Perhaps he'll count them in. You're strong, but not very willing to play. Just try your best tomorrow, and you'll come off with a decent enough mark."

Bubbles gaped at her younger sibling. "I'm not willing? What do you mean?"

Buttercup shrugged again. "I don't know, you just don't seem very enthusiastic."

Bubbles began to redden. Her blue eyes turned to ice. "I am too! Just because I don't like sports as much as you do doesn't mean I don't care!" With one blow, she knocked the soccer ball out of Buttercup's hands. She gave it a furious kick with her toe. The ball landed square in the middle of the net.

Buttercup smiled. "There you go," she grinned. "But your toe must hurt."

Bubbles looked at Buttercup. "I did it," she whispered. Suddenly she began to squeal and laugh and giggle and jump up and down. "I did it, I did it, I really really did it!" She was so happy, Buttercup couldn't help but to laugh along.

Suddenly, a clap rang through the Powerpuffs' backyard. It had been quiet, but certain. Buttercup looked up immediately, the laughter gone from her system.

"Shh," she whispered in a deadly tone to her sister.

Bubbles stopped too. She looked around, confused. "What is it?" she asked.

"Shh," Buttercup whispered again.

She slowly turned on her heels, a full 180 degrees. Another clap. Buttercup's eyes flashed up. Her eyes rested on a pair of young teen boys sitting on the grass of their backyard, looking to be around the same age as themselves. They both wore dark coloured hoodies, but they were of different colours; one was blue, while the other was green. The one in the green had his hood over his face, while the one in blue kept his hood down, showing off his rich blonde mane, almost identical to Bubbles' golden pigtails, but his hair looked . . . dirtier. More mussed, scruffy, and shorter. It was he who had been clapping.

Buttercup walked over to them, followed closely at her heels by Bubbles, whose eyes had dyed down and were now again the colour of innocent sky blue. Buttercup confronted the blue boy, head held high and firm.

"And what, exactly, do you think you're doing on our property?" she asked him.

The boy looked up at her innocently, and for a moment, he looked just like Bubbles. "You're his," he said lightly, jabbing his thumb towards the boy in the green. She saw the green boy's lip curl into a dangerous smile.

"I'm not anybody's, and really, I don't care what you're taking about," Buttercup said. "Just get off our property." Something about these boys made Buttercup's blood run cold.

A laugh erupted in the air, and in a moment she saw that it had escaped from the green boy's lips. The boy in green walked over and took Buttercup by her arm, fast as lightning.

"Hey!" she yelled. He tightened his grip. She saw the other boy go and take Bubbles the same way, and clamp his large hand over her mouth. Buttercup cursed. He'd cut off Bubbles' sonic scream. Buttercup tried biting her way out of his grasp, but the boy clicked his tongue, "_tsk tsk tsk._"

A moment later there was a hand covering her mouth too. She ferociously kicked back, hoping to hurt him in his soft spot, but he wasn't there. Dumbfounded, she looked at Bubbles. Her captor was floating behind her. _Floating_. Buttercup began to tremble as realization dawned on her. These guys could float. They knew Bubble's powers. They had them in a death grip. Fury filled her bright green eyes. The Rowdyruff Boys.


	2. Chapter 2

Buttercup watched as the boy in blue - by the name of Boomer, she recalled - pinched Bubbles somewhere above her collarbone - a pressure point. Bubbles gasped and collapsed on the grass, unconscious. Boomer cautiously pulled out a needle from his hoodie pocket and began injecting a fluid - clear and colourless, like water - into Bubbles' arm. Buttercup struggled against Butch's grasp, trying to do anything to stop the blue Rowdyruff, but Butch had her firmly.

"What is that?" Buttercup screamed as she continually struggled against Butch.

Butch smirked. "That's for me to know and for you to figure out," he replied.

Buttercup screamed louder and struggled all the more.

After finishing up with Bubbles, Boomer walked towards a flailing Buttercup with a new needle in hand, filled with the same clear substance. Butch forced her right arm forward, and before she knew it, Boomer had the needle in her arm too, slowly injecting the same fluid.

Buttercup instantly felt all the energy drain from her body. Her limbs felt weak and sore, her head was swimming, and her body felt a hundred pounds heavier. Bright spots danced before her eyes, and everything looked disoriented or deformed. She felt herself swaying - back and forth, back and forth. Suddenly, through her blurry vision, she saw the grass rush up to meet her.

Butch seemed to know what would happen to her. Unlike Boomer, he caught her an instant before she hit the ground. He turned her around and cradled her in his arms, like a baby. Buttercup barely noticed; she was focusing all the energy she had left on staying conscious.

Boomer lifted Bubbles the same way as Butch. Soon they were in the air.

The wind helped Buttercup recover - she'd always loved the feel of it on her skin. Soon, her vision was back to normal, and her mind was clear enough to think. In a matter of minutes, the dizzy feeling had disappeared completely, and Buttercup could take in her surroundings. But she was disappointed to find out that every physical movement she made drained her energy, and cause the dizziness to come back. Buttercup was reluctant to, but she stayed still.

Butch soon settled into a steady rhythm of flight; he gently bounced up and down in the air. Buttercup assumed that meant that they were well on their path. Suddenly, the blue Rowdyruff flew in towards them.

"Brick said to knock her out," Boomer said indignantly. "It was an order."

Butch rolled his eyes. "Brick and his stupid orders. I don't give a dang. She'll be much more entertaining awake, which is more than what can be said about your Blondie Puff there."

Buttercup saw Boomer's eye twitch in anger, but he kept silent.

_Figures_, she thought. If Bubbles had been in the same situation, she would've kept quiet too, and the two were counterparts; shared alike traits but made to oppose each other. The same went for Butch and herself. Then she realized that her siblings would then logically regard her as being similar to this jerk-face. She groaned inwardly but stayed quiet.

"Feeling lightheaded yet?" Butch asked her once Boomer had flown away. He wore a smug smirk on his face.

Buttercup ground her teeth; he knew the answer, and he knew the reason why. His entire question was mocking her helpless state. She wanted to rip that face out, but she couldn't muster the strength to even move. Instead, she glared back.

Butch looked at her eyes and raised his eyebrows. Then he laughed, a mischievous glint in his dark green eyes.

Buttercup turned red. Looking at her, Butch burst out in another fit of giggles.

"I told my brothers that conscious girls are _much_ more fun than unconscious ones! They never listen!" He chuckled.

Buttercup could feel anger pulsing through her veins, threatening to explode her inside out with fury. Strength powered by white-hot rage surged through her. With a loud grunt, she reached up and delivered her hardest punch - that she could deliver in her state, that is - toward her counterpart's jaw. There was a loud smack, indicating a collision of skin and skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that even Boomer had looked up to see what had happened.

Butch stopped in the air. His head was turned to the side from the impact, his jet black hair covering half his face.

"Told you," she heard Boomer mutter quietly.

Then Butch began laughing, in that same position. A terrible and maniacal laugh. Boomer stared. Buttercup looked up at her counterpart, dumbfounded.

Butch slowly turned his head back towards her. Buttercup looked at the place where she thought she'd punched him; there was not a single scratch on Butch's pale face. He smiled evilly.

"Poor Buttercup," he moaned with a false sympathetic tone. "Was that your hardest punch, little Powerpuff?"

He flicked her forehead. She cringed, but not at the pain, although it had hurt quite a bit. She had cringed because it had hurt far more than it should have. The powers she and her sisters had attained at birth kept them around a hundred times more immune to pain than the average human. Suddenly, pain surged through her hand - the one she'd punched with; that was also extremely odd. Then she thought back to the needle shot. The fluid.

"That shot . . ." Buttercup mumbled to herself. The anger was gone now, replaced by a wave of terror that flushed itself throughout her body.

She looked up at Butch, his dark green eyes meeting her own. The look in his eyes confirmed her suspicions before he said another word.

Butch grinned. "You've got it now, little B. Took you long enough."

Buttercup's heart dropped as soon as he said it.

He leaned in to her ear. She felt her entire body go numb; she had never been so afraid in her life - not afraid of him, but afraid of what he would tell her; what she would hear. He inched closer, and said in a whisper that was barely audible, "that shot, little Powerpuff, was an antidote for Chemical X."


	3. Chapter 3

**9:00 AM: First bell rings for start of homeroom at Pokey Oaks High**

Blossom's day had originally gotten off to a rough start, even before . . . well, we'll get to that later.

The vice-president wanted to introduce an idea for a whole new type of festival, which, to Blossom's understanding, included movies, pyjamas, and a barbecue. She'd told him to write up a report on the festival schedules, costs, plans, and advertisement ideas. That would buy her at least three days.

The secretary had finally cracked and demanded that Blossom make plans with her to update the school council website. Blossom scheduled an appointment on Saturday morning, meaning she would be late to her group project meeting.

Mr. Keane wanted Blossom to take up the role of set manager in the upcoming school production. Refusal would lower her reputation, and so she accepted. The play rehearsals would eat away Monday and Thursday afternoons; she would have to reschedule her violin and english lessons for the billionth time.

Then with the school principal asking Blossom to become head ambassador, the music teacher signing up an involuntary Blossom to play violin for the school's Open House Night, and the kitchen cook practically begging her to be the Kitchen helper again for the next week, it didn't seem like Blossom would be getting a break in her life anytime soon.

Then she had to worry about Buttercup's chemistry exam and Bubbles' gym test. Yes, her life was a breeze, said with utmost sarcasm.

What a brutal way to start a Monday morning.

So this was definitely NOT a great day to . . . as mentioned earlier, this will come up later . . .

First and second periods, she spent reading ahead on the lesson material, as she was already done the projects her classmates were working on. Morning break was spent making arrangements with the principal to become the head of the student ambassadors. Then it was straight to third period, where Blossom flawlessly executed her weeks-practiced presentation on Newton's Laws of Motion. Then it was lunchtime.

Buttercup and Bubbles both had late lunches today. Blossom was scheduled to have a meeting with the liaison of Student Council, to discuss the upcoming parent council meeting plans. That was, until, the liaison rudely texted her five minutes before their meeting time and cancelled due to a surprise dentist appointment. Blossom was now unexpectedly free the whole lunch period. She considered going to the music room to practice for Open House Night, but turned right back around when she saw a senior class taking their lessons.

So she wandered outside after finishing her cafeteria-bought lunch. It was a cloudy day, and a little foggy as well. She had a book with her, and, finding a nice shady spot, sat down to read.

She wasn't very far into the book when she sensed she was being watched. This was not uncommon. She was a single, super-smart, super-talented, nice hot red-haired girl (not to brag, of course), and she was also president of the Student Council, (now) Head of the Student Ambassadors, (potentially) school play set manager, and held very important positions in many other extracurricular activities around the school.

But this was different. It didn't feel anything like the adoring, or respectful, or jealous looks she was used to getting. It felt rather . . . creepy. She looked up from her book and turned her head.

She found the culprit right away. A tall, lean guy, with a red hood over a black and red snapback hat that also covered the sides of his face. She could see his pale chin and cheeks, but his hat was dipped too low for his eyes to be visible. She could see strands of red hair peeking out from behind his hood. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing slightly-muscled, pale arms. They connected to his hands, one of which was in his hoodie pocket, the other one stuck inside the pocket of his pitch-black jeans.

Blossom had never seen the guy around before. She knew the school received many new students, as Pokey Oaks High was known for its excellent education program. But as an ambassador and Student Body Representative, she felt disappointed with herself for not being familiar with at least the presence of a new student.

She stood up and dusted herself off. This would be a good time to become familiar with the new kid; Blossom prided herself on being personally close with almost every single student at Pokey Oaks, even if she was only a sophomore.

But as she got closer, Blossom realized this guy had a different vibe to himself. He didn't seem nervous to be a new kid, or even uncomfortable. In fact, he looked totally chill, sitting on the grass casually by himself, like it was something that any student at the school did to get some alone time. Then there was the uncomfortable feeling that he had been watching her with rather a hostile look. But Blossom shook off the feeling. Because really, how dangerous could a normal student be? And she was one of the most famous superheroes in the world. That's right, the Powerpuffs had gone viral outside of Townsville now, too.

_Why had she been so stupid?_

_Why had she been so slow to read the signs?_

_Why had she been so proud as to let it cloud her judgement?_

Blossom sat in front of the red-hoodie guy.

"What's your name?" She asked politely. The boy didn't reply.

"Are you new here?" The boy only lowered his head.

Blossom frowned and tried looking at the rest of his face. The boy turned away from her.

"Help . . . me . . . find the . . ." he grunted out. His voice was gruff and muffled.

Blossom smiled. "What do you need?"

"The . . . the . . ." His tone died down.

Blossom tilted her head and inched her face closer to him. "The . . . ?"

Before she knew it, both her arms were pinned behind her back, and a hand was covering her mouth. She tensed her legs and kicked wildly.

She looked around desperately. There was no one outside. Everyone was going back into the school. How had she missed the bell?

She tried biting at the hand, but it was no use; it was clamped too tightly around her lips. Then a chilling voice whispered like death in her ear: "Don't you move, Blossom Utonium." A second later, an intense pain shot up her right arm. She struggled against the hand pinning her down, but its grip on her was too firm.

Suddenly, she felt all the energy drain from her body. Her head pounded, and her vision began to blur. She felt herself being picked up, and became nauseous just by the motion of it. She could hear herself whimpering. She steadied her vision just long enough to see the face of the person carrying her. It was that boy . . . _oh God, she was going to puke . . . but who . . . ? _

A pair of glowing red eyes stared at her from under the cap. Red . . . glowing . . . that wasn't natural. There were only a few beings in the world who could have eyes like that; Blossom only knew two. The first was herself, the red eyes a result of the Chemical X in her blood. The second was also a result of Chemical X, though their uses for it were very different.

While Blossom and her sisters used their powers to rid evil in the city of Townsville, the latter did exactly the opposite. He and his brothers had been one of the toughest villains they'd ever faced, and a few of the only ones whose physical capabilities could match their own.

But they'd been destroyed, once again, many years ago when they were still grade-schoolers. Blossom and her sisters had SEEN them disappear, and had never caught a whiff of them ever again!

Until now.

Blossom stared at those eyes, dark and red, more menacing than blood.

"Bri . . . Bri . . . Bri . ."

The Rowdyruff let his hood fall, his lush red hair spreading out from under his cap. It was much shorter than the last time she'd seen him, but it still had a shimmer to it, like hers.

He leaned into her ear, sending shivers up her back.

"The best thing to do now," Brick whispered in a deadly tone, "would be to stay still . . ." Then he added, "not that you have a choice anyway."

Blossom stared at him, trying to comprehend what her red counterpart had just said. Then realization dawned on her; she tried moving her arm. It would not respond. A wave of horror flushed through her as she realized Brick was speaking the truth; she was paralyzed.

Brick took her into a cradling position and set off to the skies. The height made Blossom dizzy in her already weakened state. She lowered her head and focused on not vomiting all over Townsville.

She'd never been particularly fond of heights; when she and her sisters had been born, she'd been the last one to try taking to the air. She had suggested a ground team but Buttercup would hear none of it. The matter was settled once and for all after The Professor took them to see 'Superman, The Movie'; they would be an aerial team.

The years and experience had made her somewhat numb to her initial fear, but now, flying at approximately 100 mph at a dizzying height with no control over her body, and on top of that the fact that her life depended on one of her worst enemies in history, was enough to make her . . . well, feel sicker than she ever had before.

The flight felt like days, but when Brick finally began to descend, Blossom saw that the sun wasn't even going down yet; it was still mid-day.

He landed in a large field of grass, and dropped Blossom in front of him. The coolness of the earth helped her nausea, but her stomach still lurched and groaned. She closed her eyes and let the grass dance over her face.

Brick let her stay like that for a bit while he polished a mean-looking Swiss Army Knife. He then picked her up and took her into a small cottage. There, he tied her to the post of a nearby bed, then sat on the bed himself. He took up a small remote and flicked on the television.

The last thing she heard before losing consciousness was the all-too-familiar opening music to an old show of 'Fairly Odd Parents.'


End file.
